


Dean Winchester: Salt, Tequila, Lime

by Golightlygirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golightlygirl/pseuds/Golightlygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd heard all about Sam and Dean Winchester from your older brother, Danny, but there was really nothing like meeting them in person. After surviving a particularly daunting hunt, you're back at their bunker, winding down, when you and Dean share a moment. </p><p>Enjoy:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester: Salt, Tequila, Lime

“Sorry to be such a pain in the ass,” I sighed, starting to finally feel the after-effects of the fight winding itself through my tight muscles, “But I really appreciate having a place to crash out.”

“No problem, kid. It ain’t much,” he teased, beckoning around to the cavernous glory of the underground bunker the boys had brought me to, “But it’s home.”

“It’s seriously like the Bat Cave,” I replied, still not sure that I was actually awake enough to process the incredible set-up the Winchesters had. Call me a nerd, but the books alone had me swooning. It had been way too long since I’d had a day to myself to get lost in a good book and ignore the outside world going to shit. 

“Right?!?” Dean laughed suddenly, “That’s what I said! Too bad we don’t have an Alfred, though. We could really use a butler.”

“Well, that demon you two have chained up in that backroom has potential. Charming accent, decent sense of humor, although, probably not too keen on serving two hunters...” I offered, trailing off when I saw his eyes narrow.

Shit, probably shouldn’t have mentioned the whole ‘I’d been snooping like a bored babysitter’ thing while him and Sam went back to do clean-up duty. After being injured in the fight, the two had whisked me away to their Man Cave, especially after Dean had realized he’d once been extremely close with my older brother. While I should have been curled up watching a movie that Sam had nicely turned on for me after providing me with a first aid kit, water and blankets, I had instead toured the compound.

“Stay away from him. He’s dangerous,” Dean grunted, suddenly all business, the warmth in his voice gone.

“And a douchebag. Totally full of himself, thinking he’s the King of Hell, promising me untold riches to free him from some Moose,” I quipped, hoping to bring warmth back into Dean’s expression.

Instead, he sighed, “He is the King of Hell, which is why, he’s dangerous. Like I said, stay away from him.”

“Will do. I just got turned around on the way to the kitchen,” I provided, hoping it would sound slightly more plausible than the truth.

Liar.

I saw the skepticism on his face, but instead of calling me out on my lie, he just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and stated, “Well, if you’re hungry, I do have some leftovers of Sammy’s that we can heat up.”

“You sure Sam isn’t going to want them?” I questioned, even though the mention of food already had my stomach audibly growling. 

Dean looked down at my stomach, then back up at my face with a slowly spreading grin, “No, he’s off charming some reporter we met at the scene. Which, knowing my brother’s normal lack of charm, could take hours. Maybe even days. Shall we?”

We walked down the small hallway, Dean leading the way, while I studied the ridiculously beautiful view walking in front of me. He had broad shoulders, the dark grey shirt he was wearing pulled taut against them, revealing every inch of toned muscle in his perfectly chiseled back.

By the time, we entered the kitchen, I was already starting to wonder if staying here was a good idea. Sure, it was almost the middle of the night, I had nowhere else to go and I had sustained minor flesh wounds, including a blow to the head, but there was also a good chance I was going to do something reckless and impulsive like throw myself at Dean Winchester so maybe it was better to bow out gracefully before things got truly embarrassing.

“We got nachos!” He announced triumphantly, pulling out a few to-go boxes and plopping heaps of cold chips, cheese and chicken onto plates before shoving them into the microwave and quickly pressing a few buttons. 

“Do you want help?” I asked, although sitting down felt so amazing, I was secretly hoping he’d say no. 

“I got this,” he said, turning around to wiggle his eyebrows at me, “I’m a master of the microwave.”

I giggled, clearly loopy from sleep deprivation, “My hero...”

“Just wait... you thought I was your hero before...” He grabbed a few glasses from sink and rummaged through the bottom cabinet next to the fridge before produced a bottle of tequila with a flourish, mimicking a few awkward flamenco steps before crying, “Ole!”

“Funny, you don’t strike me as a tequila drinker,” I commented, leaving out the part about how I’d already gone through their liquor cabinets and could sense a major preference for whiskey.

“I’m not. But hunter chicks normally like tequila.” He shrugged, and while I wanted to demand how he knew what any other hunter ‘chicks’ booze preference was, I reached for the glass eagerly, “Besides, you know what I’ve found to be true about tequila?” he quipped while searching through the fridge to find one pathetic, and slightly bruised, lime. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s the best thing to drink when you want to get to know someone,” he smiled, passing the glass to me with a quick wink.

“Yeah, Biblically,” I replied sarcastically before I could stop myself.

He burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to remember what self-respect felt like, “Apparently, I have no filter right now.”

“I like it,” he smiled again, just a flash, but it was enough to send my stomach flipping into overdrive, “Danny always said his kid sister was a bit of a spitfire.”

Grief for Danny hit me like a freight train and for a moment, I forgot about being in a tiny kitchen with a obnoxiously handsome god of a Hunter. Instead, all I could think about was how much it hurt that I’d never get to see my big brother again. I closed my eyes against the feelings, reopening them to see Dean studying my face with a quiet sadness in his clear green eyes.

“Sorry to bring up Danny,” he offered, regret and pain clear as he carefully set two shot glasses down on the table, “He was a hell of a Hunter. And an even better man.”

“It feels good to be with people who knew him again,” I admitted, “People who know about the life. When he died, my friends from college, they tried to be there for me. But I couldn’t ever tell any of them the whole truth. I couldn’t talk to them about what had happened to him. Told them it was a car accident. Drunk driver.”

Dean winced, setting a few slices of lime in front of me and what I assumed was a salt shaker. It looked like a cross between an angel and some sort of detective in a trench coat, but before I could ask him what the hell kind of angel rocked Sherlock Holmes attire, he reached across the table, covering my small hand with his huge one.

I could feel the calluses on the palm of his hand, the strong heat that sank into mine. Meeting his eyes, I felt the air tense, just a little, just enough.

“I really am sorry, Y/N. You always have me and Sammy,” he promised.

Swallowing hard, trying to break up the seriousness of the mood, I gave a quick smile and then slid my hand out from under his to take a hold of the salt shaker, “Salt, tequila, lime, bitch. Remember you’re drinking with a college girl now.”

“Not the first time,” he quipped, “Won’t be the last.”

I rolled my eyes, then bent to lick the top of my hand to make the salt stick to. I looked up to see Dean’s eyes intent on my mouth. He seemed to visibly shake himself when I held out the shaker to him so he could do the same thing. Taking our lime slices in the same hands we’d salted and grabbing our tequila shots with the others, we raised our glasses.

“To Danny,” I said shakily, gathering more courage as Dean nodded encouragingly, “Who would probably beat Dean Winchester’s ass if he could see him getting his kid sister drunk off of Patron!” 

Dean choked laughing, “I’ll drink to that!”

I quickly licked the salt, threw back the shot and squeezed the lime slice into my mouth, savoring the burn and the sourness all at once. A few drops of tequila escaped from the corner of my mouth and dribbled down my chin. I was about to wipe it off with the back of my still somewhat salty hand when Dean suddenly stilled.

“What?” I questioned, wondering if there was some super sonic alarm system only meant for the Winchesters that was screaming out impending doom. 

Without another word, Dean moved to close the small space between us and before I could take another breath, he pressed his lips against mine, swallowing my gasp of surprise. Strong tan hands cupped the back of my head, fingertips massaging their way through my hair, which was now probably a mess of curls.

I pressed my body against his, arching upwards, while he readjusted to secure his arms all the way around my small frame. I wanted to get higher, closer to his beautiful mouth and the pleasure it was sending through my entire body. Just as my knees started to give out, his lips, his tongue, moved to the curve of my neck and he picked me up, setting me on the counter so we were finally at the right level. I moaned as he bit a path down my shoulder, starting to slip off my t-shirt. I drew back, just slightly as his thumb grazed one of the cuts Sam had expertly bandaged, and he removed the pressure, only to press a light kiss over the wound before returning back to my mouth. 

Suddenly, a noise off in the far room of the bunker had us both pausing. 

“Dean? Y/N? I brought snacks!” Sam called from the other room. 

Dean quickly pulled back, running his hand over his, still sexy, mouth. Damn him for looking flawless, even with swollen lips, I thought, running an useless hand over my hair in an attempt to smooth it down. He picked me up, set me down to the kitchen floor and pressed a rough kiss into the slope of my forehead. 

I turned to head into the hallway, but not before I heard him mutter under his breath, “Danny would so kick my ass.”

 

Let me know what you think :) I'd considered making this a series.


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